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The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the Junker Fleet. As soon as its transponder pinged, it wasn’t questioned. It wasn’t challenged. The Junker Fleet knew whose space they were inhabiting. Transmitting clearance, and a docking request. The shuttle glided into the hangar of the Venator, wings folding up over its head. Touching down on repulsors, the hatch at the front opening and hissing even before the hangar door had closed. Two armoured individuals descended from the ramp. The first, [url=https://lumiere-a.akamaihd.net/v1/images/captain-phasma_8f4ea1d7.jpeg?region=0%2C87%2C1560%2C879&width=960]Captain Phasma[/url]. One of the elite soldiers within the First Order, right hand woman to General Hux with her own special training program within the First Order.

The second figure was clearly a [url=https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EOqtK7WWAAcFSxq.jpg]Mandalorian[/url], though his armour markings were irregular. It wasn’t visible, due to their helmets though Phasma wasn’t comfortable with him, and he wasn’t comfortable with her.

They were unknown quantities. 

Phasma didn’t like things being unknown. She drilled her people to be loyal through and through, they were conditioned to respond to events accordingly. Now due to some orders coming from on high she was just expected to trust this Mandalorian. It was absurd.

The two of them walked out from beneath the shuttle.She stood waiting at the base of the ramp, the mandalorian by her side waiting. She never approached first, no. They had to come to her.

The Mandalorian didn’t feel like playing such games. Instead he walked up to the closest deckhand, clasping his shoulder to turn him around. “We need whoever's in charge.”
[hr]

“Ma’am… the First Order is here. They are requesting the usual landing permissions.”

Tamara Hycin was standing in front of the viewport of [i]The Salvager’s[/i] bridge, her hands clasped behind her back. She wore the outfit she always wore when among the Junkers Union: a tight brown jumpsuit with a red vest, and a heavy blaster pistol strapped with a utility belt to her hip. Her clothes didn’t bear a single stain, but none of the workers or scrappers here would dare to bring it up. It was a show of solidarity that all on board understood, and putting it to words would draw unwanted attention from the cutthroat privateer. Her eyes were trained on the new speck that she had clocked from her position moving closer. Before her subordinate had even spoke, she could recognize that shuttle anywhere. Tamara gave a nod, and turned her gaze to her left where a man dressed in a run-down Rebel Alliance naval uniform was looking to her expectantly. [color=lightgray]”They are authorized for the portside docking bay. Make an announcement for Captains Andarin and Rinslan to report there as well.”[/color] With a nod of acknowledgement from the officer, Tamara turned on her heels and walked briskly towards the elevator shaft to meet with the First Order. She knew they did not appreciate tardiness.

Within a few moments, her brisk footsteps were matched by those of Captain Winrell Rinslan. His familiar steps echoed in the empty halls in this portion of the ship, the sound of the leather imperial boots a nostalgic sound to the former Imperial officer. Rinslan was a tall, lithe man who never quite filled out his old naval uniform quite right, resulting in him having to use careful tucking and some pins to try and get it to conform around his body. That being said, his alterations were calculated and in compliance with the harsh dress code of his naval upbringing. His steps were uniform and practically a clicking march in lockstep with his commanding officer. This was interrupted by the thudding footfalls of Captain Jax Andarin, whose face and hair were still marked with grease stains. He jogged up towards the former Imperials, readjusting his coat as he fell nearly in step alongside Captain Rinslan in following Chief Hycin. Tamara turned her gaze towards Jax as he fell in line, her sweet tones undercut with a threatening confidence. [color=lightgray]”They are earlier than usual. Don’t speak unless I give the signal.”[/color] Jax gave a confused glance to Winrell, who simply flashed a condescending smirk to his fellow Captain. Jax clenched his jaw as he turned his gaze ahead to follow the others into the docking bay.

The doors slid open, and Chief Hycin took a step forward confidently. Her eyes glanced over the familiar shuttle, before passing over two figures. She slowed her next step for a moment, just long enough for Jax to fall out of step and nearly run into his CO. Hycin’s heart missed a beat as recognition passed over her face for a second. Reputation was a powerful tool, and one the Junkers Union brandished to keep fear in the heart of its enemies. But a reputation powerful enough to make Tamara Hycin nearly stop dead in her tracks was rare. Tamara took a deep breath as she continued her pace once again. This was unexpected, and unexpected was not something Tamara Hycin was fond of. The lone deckhand turned his gaze towards the open blast doors and the three figures approaching, and shakily pointed a finger in their direction. “Y-You’ll want to speak with Chief Hycin, s-sir.” The second he got the chance, the dockhand slipped from the Mandalorian’s grip and made his way towards a couple other dockhands standing alert near a set of ammunition crates, doing his best to fade into the background.

Tamara Hycin and company marched within a few meters of the two visitors, and she fell into an immediate salute along with Winrell. Jax stood at his full height and kept his hands resting on his utility belt, far and enough away from the CA-87 resting in a holster on his right thigh. Tamara’s voice went rigid and formal, her naval discipline kicking in. [color=lightgray]”It is an honor to have you on board, Captain Phasma.”[/color]

The Mandalorian stepped back in line behind Phasma. Letting go off the deckhand as the three officers approached. Phasma instantly clocked two of them for Imperials. The third. She’d assume he had no formal military background, no that wasn’t right. Rebel maybe. When she finally spoke her voice was metallic and neutral, her helmet filtering her voice to betray no emotion. Instead everything sounded like mild disdain. 

“It’s good to see that my reputation precedes me. This is my associate, he goes by the title [i]Crusader[/i]. He needs your ship and its crew for an important mission. I need you to be ready to leave within five hours if you are to make your timeframe.”

Tamara kept her gaze straight, lowering her attentive stance as Winrell followed. She bared a slightly warm smile,raising her eyebrows in some acknowledgement of surprise at the sudden request. She knew better than to play any part other than the accommodating servant.  [color=lightgray]”The Junkers Union would be happy to serve the First Order. Are you requesting [i]The Salvager[/i] or the whole fleet?”[/color]

“The Salvager will suffice. We have some specialist vessels that will meet with you at the target destination to assist as necessary.” Phasma turned and gestured to [i]Crusader[/i] “I remind you that in my absence you will be in the employ of [i]Crusader[/i]-” She had to stop herself from scoffing at his ridiculous name. “-and his orders should be taken as our own. I assume I don’t need to remind you that my presence here indicates you have gained yourself some [i]prestige[/i]? My superiors sent me here directly.”

Tamara nodded towards Captain Rinslan, who nodded in return and sharply turned on his heels to begin preparations for departure. She turned her gaze back towards Phasma, same warm smile plastered on her lips. [color=lightgray]”We are happy for the recognition and opportunity to perform such a vital mission for the First Order.”[/color] Her gaze turned finally in acknowledgement of the Mandalorian. [Color=lightgray]”We will be happy to escort you to the bridge for a briefing on what you need from us when you are ready, [i]Crusader.[/i]”[/color] With a simple turn of head once again, Tamara’s eyes locked back onto Phasma. [color=lightgray]”Do you have any further specifications or accommodation requests, Captain?”[/color]

Crusader merely nodded, before pulling some form of needle from a pouch on his hip, stabbing in between two joints of his armour. 

Phasma meanwhile signalled back to the shuttle as a group of eleven troopers, and a twelfth with an officers pauldron, descended from the shuttle. “This squad of troopers will remain behind to assist [i]Crusader[/i] with his duties aboard this ship. All other details, [i]Crusader[/i] will fill you in on.” Without another word she turned around and back up towards the shuttle. The troopers stood waiting in the middle of the hangar as the ramp to the shuttle was once more raised. As soon as the doors were open it raised off its legs and left the hangar.

Crusader spoke again, his voice oddly hollow and gravely. “Take me to the bridge, and have someone show the Troopers to some quarters.”

Tamara watched the shuttle begin to take off from the hangar, and turned to match Jax’s gaze. Her warm smile gave way to a simmering rage, which Jax met with a slight nod. She turned her gaze back towards Crusader. [color=lightgray]”I’ll have an officer escort them momentarily. For now, we will lead you to the bridge.”[/color] Chief Hycin turned on her heels and began making her way out of the hangar bay and towards the turbolift to the bridge, fetching a small datapad from her vest pocket and typing up a quick message to prepare one of the barrack spaces for the troopers. Of course, it meant having to quickly evict salvagers back to [i]The Dauntless[/i], but it was an acceptable tradeoff. They would be liabilities in the coming mission regardless. Jax followed Tamara closely, keeping an eye on Crusader with clear suspicion. Something about this whole situation didn’t sit right with the pilot. And he knew damn well at this point to trust in his gut.